


fording the river

by lilithqueen



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: AU after The Thing Happened (page 750 I think?), Fix-It, Gen, Spoilers, because NOT MY WEASEL DAUGHTER HOW DARE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/pseuds/lilithqueen
Summary: Tuuri is dead.Reynir will be damned if he lets her stay that way. Even though Lalli is sure his scheme's going to get them all killed, he wants to save his cousin too. It's only a little matter of dragging her soul out of Tuonela, right...?(Luckily, they are not alone.)





	fording the river

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard canon pulled Some Bullshit and...now here I am. Patching up canon's bullshit. It's a small fic, but perhaps it will help.

“No.”

Reynir stared at him through the wall of vines, reaching out a hand as though that would help. “Lalli, please, just listen, you’re the only one who c–”

“ _Nothing’s going to bring her back!_ ”

Nothing _could_ bring her back. They’d found her earlier (no, they’d found her body, slightly swollen from the waves) and when no amount of chest compressions or rescue breathing had brought color back into her he’d known he was right. It was going to happen all over again. He would lose his family, and this time he would die of it. Hands shaking, he turned away and squeezed his eyes shut. “Go away.”

He heard Reynir take a slow breath. “…Okay. Okay. Then I’ll walk to Tuonela by _myself_ , and probably get lost or eaten by something because I don’t know the right words, but that’s…okay. At least I’ll have tried.”

Ice water fell into his veins. For a dizzying moment, he was sure he hadn’t heard right, and slowly turned around to check Reynir’s facial expressions. The man had to be kidding. It had to be a sick joke. “You’re going to–”

Reynir folded his arms. “You heard me. I’m going to Tuonela, and I’m going to fight or bargain or—or _something_ , I don’t know yet, but I can’t let this happen.”

“…No.” He took a breath and barrelled over whatever Reynir had been about to say, voice rising to a shout. “You—you _stupid idiot_ , that’s not a thing! Nobody’s ever done that except in stories! You are going to _die_ , and if you think it’s going to accomplish anything–”

Reynir’s fingers tightened on the vines, knuckles turning white. “Nobody’s ever made it this far into the Silent World, either!”

“And look where that got us! Tuuri is—Tuuri is…” He spun back around, forcing back the tears. He’d be damned if he cried in front of Reynir. “And we’re going to join her.”

“Maybe we are.” Reynir sounded like he was close to tears himself, but his voice didn’t shake. “But if we do, I want to go to Valhalla saying I at least tried. Even if…” He swallowed audibly. “Even if we fail.”

“We will. But…” His lynx padded over to him, shoving its furry head against his hand as he turned around. “…Okay. I’ll come with you.” _Even if we all die. Even then, I’ll go screaming in the Swan’s face. I promise you, Tuuri._

Reynir sagged against the vines. “Oh, thank the gods.” But then big green eyes focused on him hopefully, and he felt his heart sink as the man asked, “Speaking of, since they’re yours….um, how do we do this? I had some ideas to start—we can talk on the way to collect the others?”

 _Oh, no._ His heart, buoyed by fury, sunk again. “ _What_ others?”

Reynir stepped to one side to let him through the vines, not looking at him as he answered. “Well, uh. Nobody else is a mage, but I’ve been kind of, um—walking around the edges of their havens? Emil and Sigrun and Mikkel, I mean. _They’re_ asleep, but their fylgjur are awake—and I think they’d be really useful.”

For a long little while, all Lalli could do was stare at him. _Where do I even start…?_ “They’re not mages. How strong can they be?”

“We won’t know until we try. Come _on_.”

They were definitely going to die. Still, Lalli made sure to close his vine wall tightly before following Reynir and his dog out across the sea. This soon after a death, the waters were calm and still, fathomless, and he found he couldn’t look into the depths. _This was what Tuuri saw, before…she…no. No, I have to be useful. Think, idiot. Nobody’s ever done this except in stories, but…_

His parents had told him stories when he was very small. He remembered his father’s rumbling voice as he spun tale after tale of mighty Vainamoinen, strong Kullervo, hard-hearted Hannu–

 _Hannu_. They were coming up on a rocky, dark forest, and he almost walked into Reynir’s back. _Hannu and Ville_ _went to the very gates of Tuonela to save their village; if they could outsmart the Swan…_

Reynir raised his voice. “Sigrun! Hey!”

Twigs snapped under the beat of heavy paws; that was all the warning Lalli got before an enormous gray wolf padded to the very edge of the shore and stared at them inscrutably before barking a question in Sigrun’s voice—if Sigrun’s voice was edged with old metal and teeth. “What?”

At least the idiot could _act_ like he knew what he was doing. His face stretched in a smile as he gestured to Lalli and his lynx, which flattened its ears. “We’re going to rescue Tuuri!”

The wolf yipped excitedly, bounding into the waves beside them. “Little Fuzzy! Yeah, let’s go! Bring the little Viking, too!”

Judging by the softening around his eyes, Reynir was actually smiling now. “Of course. And…Mikkel?”

He seemed to be deferring to Lalli, which was reassuring. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head. “No. This—if we make it back, we need him in good condition.”

Some of Reynir’s optimism seemed to dim at that. “Okay. So…Emil is this way…” He paused, one foot on the stone leading out to the water. “And if you have a plan, please talk to us, because my gods would probably just want you to fight them.”

The wolf managed to look confused. “You mean we can’t just fight these ones?”

 _Kuutar, help me._ Lalli sighed, his lynx echoing the sound. “No.”

Emil’s haven turned out to be a half-cleared forest full of young trees; for an uncomfortably long while after Reynir called his name, nothing happened. Lalli squinted through the trees. _Maybe his fylgja is just small, or–_

The largest golden eagle he’d ever seen landed with a thump on a branch above their heads, its flutelike voice cold and angry. “Why are you calling me?”

Sigrun’s wolf bounced up to the base of the tree. “We’re going to rescue Tuuri from Tuonela!”

The eagle cocked its head; now that he was listening, Lalli realized he could hear the notes of Emil’s voice under the screeches. “How?”

The wolf sighed heavily. “I dunno, Lalli said we can’t fight ‘em, so–”

“We can’t fight them. But…” He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts—yes, he was almost sure this would work. “We can trick them. Or—I can.” _I can. I will. For Tuuri. Gods, I wish Onni were here…_ “Just let me talk to the Swan.”

“So you want me for moral support, hm?” The eagle actually preened for a moment before launching itself off the branch, wheeling a slow circle above their heads. “Okay!”

Reynir smoothed down his hair, glancing nervously at Lalli. “…So. We’re all together. I guess…lead the way?”

 _He makes it sound easy._ Lalli closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The air was cool, too damp, and smelled of salt, but he savored it; this could be the last breath he’d ever draw in the dream world. “Follow me.”

–

They were silent as they walked. Guides of two unserious people they might be, but clearly the wolf and the eagle knew this wasn’t a time for idle conversations; the only sounds were their breathing and their footfalls on the wet rocks just below the waves. Lalli kept his eyes open and his hand on his knife, but he could have navigated the way to Tuonela blindfolded.

It was the smell. When salt and water started to give way to rotting flesh and old bones, he knew they were close. As the wolf pricked up its ears, Emil’s eagle landed lightly on his shoulder. “What do we do?”

The rocks rising out of the ocean were taller now, more jagged; by the time they reached land they were staring down a maze of stone spires, and Lalli had made up his mind. “Stay hidden. Leave the talking to me. If it goes badly…” _Even Hannu had to kill the Moose._ “…Then I might need you.”

“At least you won’t have to do any prayers or rituals or anything to get in…?” Reynir drew ahead of them, shaking his boots off as he stepped onto the shore. Not that there was much of one; a sluggish gray wash of water drained into the sea next to his feet, and Lalli couldn’t see the bottom. As the wolf slunk behind a stone and his lynx melded with his skin, Lalli followed him.

“Hnn.” Grudgingly, he nodded his thanks to Reynir and lifted his voice. “Tuuri Hotakainen! Tuuri Hotakainen! Daughter of my father’s brother, blood of my blood, I call you from the shores of Tuonela!” Hand shaking—he’d only ever heard whispers of this spell ever being _attempted_ —he drew his knife and cut his own palm, just deep enough to break skin. It shone too red in the gloom as he squeezed his hand tight, making the droplets fall to the ground.

The Swan glided silently around the bend, twice as tall as a man and gleaming with corpse-light. Drifting behind it, footsteps slow and steady, was Tuuri’s shimmering soul. She was insubstantial here, wavering, and Lalli’s heart felt like it was being carved out of his chest at the sight. Reynir cried out, reaching for her, and it was only Lalli’s hand shooting out that kept him from probably tackling the Swan. “Tuuri!”

“ _Stay back._ ” Lalli didn’t dare take his eyes off the spirit, feeling the cold glow at the edge of his vision that meant his luonto was tensing for a fight. “Oh, mighty Swan of Tuonela, meaning no disrespect, we come here–”

“To rob me of my newest arrival?” The spirit actually sounded bored, tilting its head a fraction to face him. “Bold human.”

He swallowed. “She is my cousin. She will be—returned to you—when it is time. And not one moment before.”

Seconds stretched on, and the swan was silent. And then it mantled its wings, drawing itself up with a hiss. “A life for a life. Those are my terms. Who will you trade?”

 _I knew it would come to this. I knew._ Still, his heart was heavy as he took a step forward. “I…”

The eagle fell from the rocks above them like a thunderbolt, screeching as it landed talons-first on the Swan’s back. “You want a life in exchange for hers? Then you shall get to keep yours!”

“Traitor–!” The Swan twisted, trying to dislodge the talons and beak which were shedding black ichor into the water. “Savage!”

The wolf leapt, slamming the Swan’s head onto the stony shore. “Savage, but smarter than _you_. Your life for hers!”

The Swan honked frantically, churning the waters, but could get no purchase; Lalli had a moment to think _wings_ before his luonto and Reynir’s fylgja burst forth, biting deep into the meat of them and leaving the spirit immobile. He felt cold and clear as a bell, fingers tight on his knife. “O Swan of Tuonela, these are _my_ terms. Give us the soul of Tuuri Hotakainen, to be placed within her body, and we will leave you in peace.”

The Swan hissed, glaring balefully at them with an evil yellow eye. “Fine! Fine, take her, I never wanted her here anyway.”

And then Tuuri’s soul was striding towards them, glowing brighter, and Lalli breathed in deeply as she wrapped her ghostly arms around him and sank inwards.

_…Lalli…?_

He felt himself smile. _I came to get you._

… _I’m sorry. I really thought…this wouldn’t happen…_

 _Don’t be._ He turned, motioning for the assembled fylgjur to withdraw. _We’re going home._

–

He jolted awake with a start, glad that he’d fallen asleep fully dressed. Tuuri’s soul wouldn’t keep forever.

Sigrun was mumbling something as she woke up, but Lalli ignored her. They’d been unable to bury Tuuri’s body very deeply, and the soil was still soft; Reynir’s hands joined his as they scrabbled frantically at the earth. _We don’t have much time, I can feel her soul beating beating hammering like bird’s wings in my chest, please–_

A shovel broke ground next to them. _Oh, Emil. Maybe you are useful._

They’d wrapped her in a tarp; it had seemed the least they could do. Lalli ripped a fold away from her face and grabbed for his knife, drawing a line across his forearm. _My blood, her blood._

As it fell on her face, crimson droplets speckling her lips, he thought he saw her eyelids move. Behind him, Reynir was making noises that sounded like prayers.

Lalli squeezed his eyes shut. _Please, gods…_

“…Nngh.”

A dry croaking sound. He opened his eyes.

Tuuri stared back at him, eyes hazy but alert. Alert and _alive_.

**Author's Note:**

> The squad's probably going to collectively be pretty out of it for a few days. Mikkel will be needed...once he gets over the shock of a living, Rash-free Tuuri.


End file.
